Never Enough Bread Crumbs to Get Home
by GenuineRuckus
Summary: Draco says his last goodbyes to Pansy.


Draco watched as his aunt cackled and kicked plated and glasses off the table. They fell and shattered beautifully on the stone floor, the image mingling with smoke from a thousand blown-out candles above his head. He bit back a terrible, body-shaking sob and put his head down, trying not to miss what had been the Great Hall: now a empty room filled only with broken glass and broken memories. It felt wrong, although he knew he wouldn't back. He had ruined too much here.

That was all he'd ever been good at--breaking things. Ruining everything he touched. He let his head fall, his red-rimmed eyes focused on the floor, two pieces of a plate at his feet. Bellatrix turned around at the end of the table and smirked at him, her hands arrogantly placed on her hips. He said nothing to her, only turned away towards the entrance.

There was a singly body there, a silhouette of someone he thought he knew. He drew his wand, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes, which he wiped away with a sleeve. "Who's there?" he demanded. "Come into the light!"

Pansy stepped forward as Bellatrix and Fenrir, who'd been enjoying themselves crushing things under their feet, exited in the opposite direction. His lip quivered as he attempted to look tough, put on a serious face. He stowed his wand away and stepped forward. "Go back to bed," he said, in the best Big Man voice he could conjure. She shook her head and frowned at him.

"So this is what you were ordered to do? Why you're away every night? I wouldn't have come, but we heard the crashing in the common room, and--" she stopped and brushed off one of the benches to sit down, and then did the same to the space next to her and patted it, indicating Draco to sit down.

With a moments hesitation, he did so, his hands limp in his lap. She touched his arm and then withdrew. "Draco... You could have told me," she said, trying to look into his eyes. His face was turned away towards the ragged glass that used to be a window. "I could... I don't know. I won't lie, I couldn't have helped, but... I was always there for you, wasn't I? You could have come to me."

Draco stood up again and paced away, trying not to imagine how much better it would have been if he hadn't pushed her away. "No," he said simply. "I couldn't have. I couldn't have gotten you messed up in this."

Pansy took a long, deep breath and when she exhaled she snort-laughed. "But did get me into it, didn't you? You made me care about you. And when you were--well, doing whatever it was you were doing, when you were living in your own head and not talking to me, or anyone else for that matter, you were getting me into it. I couldn't help it," she said, her voice lowering to a faint whisper, so he had to lean towards her to hear.

He was smiling inside himself, though. Would he be like this, he wondered, if she had confessed earlier? If he had known what she was thinking, would he have been a normal student instead of a secret agent for Voldemort, running around undercover at night, sneaking through the hallways like a robber.

"I wanted you to come back. I--" she choked, she finally seemed to wrap her head around what was happening to her, to them. "I love you." He sat back down and looked her straight in the eyes for the first time since she'd shown up.

Taking one of her hands, he lifted it to his lips and kissed her fingers. She hiccupped, her pug nose crinkled and a little ugly. He'd never thought of her as beautiful, but with liquid crystals pooling in her eyes and running down her admittedly pudgy cheeks. He kissed away her tears and tried to smile. "I'm sorry. I just can't."

He stood up and turned away, just as Snape entered and yelled to him. "Draco, we have to move."

Draco didn't turn around before he walked away: the increasing volume in her sobs was enough to tell him what was happening.

* * *

AN: I find myself liking Pansy more and more as Draco get's more and more... distant? Their relationship is fascinating.


End file.
